


the trees of all the worlds

by fengirl88



Category: Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, M/M, Second Person, Stealth Meta, Triple Drabble
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-02
Updated: 2017-06-02
Packaged: 2018-11-04 04:12:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10983117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fengirl88/pseuds/fengirl88
Summary: Three linked drabbles about trees.





	the trees of all the worlds

In the first world, what brings you together is the flash of your scarlet uniform among the new spring leaves. When the French take you prisoner, Wellington sends his magician to rescue you. Despite involving a coffin and a life-size clay figure, the rescue is a success. Afterwards, the two of you sit on a rock, very much at your ease, discussing the finer points of English watering-places over cold chicken and claret. Later, you hear with little surprise that he has moved a wood of pine and olive trees in Navarra by magic, and resurrected seventeen dead Neapolitan soldiers. 

In the second world, the trees are singing; you know it is his doing. You speak sharply to him; the noise of his magic endangers you all. His man is killed by the French, his books blown to smithereens. He is more alone in this world than in the first one; he has more need of you. His misery cracks your reserve. You clasp his arm, and try to comfort him. Later, you take the gun from his shaking hand. You weep to discover him alive at Waterloo. You stare at an empty prison cell from which he has vanished.

In other worlds, you come together in a score of different ways: fast or slow, alone or in company, in the Peninsula or elsewhere. You are sometimes – not always – made lastingly unhappy by desire, and so is he. In one of these worlds, you watch him asleep under a tree by a stream as the insects sing in the noonday heat and your horses crop the grass. Looking at him makes you ache, but there is a pleasure in it, now the longing and suspense are almost done. When he wakes, you will ride on together, towards your story’s end.

**Author's Note:**

> written for the Tree challenge at fan_flashworks, and prompted by thinking about the differences between book and TV canon. Thank you to Owl-by-Night for her encouragement with this one.


End file.
